Over and Out
by thesecondgarde
Summary: The agency. It's a strange name but one of the first things we were taught was to not ask unnecessary questions. Too much information could lead you to take a bad decision... and looking back, that's exactly what I did. Who am I, you ask? I'm Six, and this is the story of the biggest mistake of my life. Human/secret agent AU. CURRENT CHAPTER: 5
1. Chapter 1 - SIX- Graduation

**Hey everyone...**

**So this is my new story, based on a crazy idea that popped into my head this afternoon... **

**I really haven't planned out much, but here's chapter 1!**

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**CHAPTER 1 **

**SIX**

By the time my alarm goes off I'm already lacing up my combat boots. I stand up and take a quick look in the mirror, running my fingers through my dark hair and debating whether or not to brush it. It's a mess, but it's not like anyone cares, right?

Sighing in defeat, I pick up my hairbrush and start what is easily the toughest battle of my day, which, considering my regular schedule, is quite a challenge. After tugging and pulling at it for nearly ten minutes I brush it back into my standard ponytail and take one last look in the mirror, scowl at my appearance and head out.

I don't even have to think as I unconsciously navigate through the twisting corridors of the agency towards the control center. This route has become so familiar over the past five years I've been working here. Five years in which I've managed to make quite a name for myself being one of the most promising recruits the agency his ever taken in.

The agency. It's a strange name, but one of the first things we were taught was to not ask unnecessary questions. Too much information could make it harder to make descisions, they told us, and so it became the law. Back then, being here was a dream come true and I had worked so hard to earn my place. Now respect comes easily. With over a hundred successful missions under my belt, it's granted without hesitation.

I reach the control center and walk in confidently as the sliding doors open with a slight hum. The first time I saw this place I was blown away by the sheer amount of tech crammed into a room barely the size of my bedroom, and had gaped openly at the sight. But now I barely notice the flashing monitors as I make my way towards a lanky figure folded into a computer chair in front of me.

"Hey Sam", I say and he jumps, spinning around to face me. "Hey, what are you doing up so early? It's your day off.", he asks me as he motions towards a chair by his side and I shrug as I sit down. "Old habits die hard", I tell him and he chuckles, pushing his glasses up his nose and sitting back, giving me a once over.

Sam's probably the only person in this place I can call a friend. He joined up two years after me and until then I was an absolute loner. Missions and assignments had been my only companions and I never enjoyed mixing with the others, not that they ever made an effort to reach out to me. Sam thinks it's probably because they were scared of me, which is a plausible explanation. He's not the first one to tell me I'm intimidating, just ask any one of the hundreds I've interrogated and they'll back him up. I had been on a mission somewhere in the middle of eastern Europe when I first heard of him. Literally, heard of over my headset that is.

I was in the process of diffusing a rather complicated bomb and was about to follow my handler, Katarina's instructions and cut a blue wire, which was supposed to disable it. My blade was less than a centimetre away from it when I heard shouting over my comm and stopped. A few seconds later Sam's voice rang out and told me to cut the red wire which I had ignored from the start. By this time there were only seconds left on the timer and I impulsively cut the red wire, and heaved a sigh of relief when the timer stopped with two seconds to go.

We later found out that the blue wire would have caused an instant detonation if cut, and that Sam had saved my life. Needless to say, from that day on, Sam Goode became my friend.

Once he's done he asks, "So how was Siberia?", referring to my last mission. "Cold", I reply frankly and he smiles. "Four weeks in the field and all you can tell me was that it was cold? You're gonna have to do better than that Six", he comments and I find myself smiling at the mention of name.

I've had many names since I started my career, from Veronica all the way to Maren Elizabeth, but I've never taken to any of them. Agents aren't supposed to use their real names and so when I found that nothing else suited me, I chose to be called strictly by my code number, and so I became Six.

"Anyway", I ask, changing the subject, "what are you doing up?", I ask and his face lights up. "The newest edition of Extraterrestrial Editorial released an hour ago, and I really couldn't wait until morning", he says and I shake my head. When he's not working, Sam's a first class sci-fi nerd, obsessed with all things strange and unearthly. While I don't believe even the smallest whisper of it, I pretend to enjoy it for his sake.

He opens his mouth, probably to tell me about how Martians have six feet or something and I brave myself for the lecture, but it never comes. Instead, we hear a slight ping from the computer, which I've come to associate with a new mission file being uploaded to the central database. Sam and I turn to the computer and he clicks on the newest file, only to find that it's locked.

"A locked mission file", he breathes and turns to me. I've only heard of such files, never seen one before even though I've spent hours looking. They are for high risk missions, the type that can topple governments and start world wars. The type of mission I've been hoping for.

"Open it", I command and Sam gets to work hacking the password. It's heavily encrypted and takes him longer than usual, but 15 minutes later the file lies printed out in a nearby printer tray. Sam walks over and bunches it together, stapling the end. "We're gonna get in so much trouble for this", he says and I shrug it off. "We'll be fine, they'll never know", I tell him though I'm a bit worried myself. If they found out we accessed a locked file without authorisation, we could be suspended, or more likely killed. But the need for a challenge and adventure pushes me to go ahead, I think it's about time I graduated.

I'm starting on the first page when I hear the sounds of approaching footsteps, and turn to Sam. "Get out of here, and take this with you. We'll go over it later, usual place", he tells me and I nod, slipping the file into my shoulder bag and walking out. He's right, it's too risky to try and read this inside. I pass two guards on my way out and nod politely, and they smile back. I make it out of the building without meeting anyone else and head straight for the parking lot.

I find my car just where I left it and climb in, enjoying the familiarity of the interiors. I pull out of the lot and onto the main road, a smile on my face as I quickly glance at the file on the seat next to me. It's ok to break the rules once in awhile and plus, it's not like this mission can be THAT dangerous, I think to myself as I pull up at a drive-through to buy coffee.

Boy, was I so wrong.

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**so what do you think? Please leave me a review. Comments, suggestions and questions are welcome.**

**Until next time**

**thesecondgarde**


	2. Chapter 2 - MARINA- Ice and needles

**Hey everyone... I'm back!**

**Thank you IWishICouldBeNumberFive, Videsa, AnonymousLoricDemigod, scone104 and TomFieldings for reviewing! It made my day.**

**Five reviews and two follows for ch1... this story is already doing better than my other two..**

**Ok I know it's a strange topic for a fic but I personally feel it works perfectly, with the secrets they have to keep, their abilities and struggle... **

**Enough chatter... here's chapter 2... I hope you like a dangerous Marina ...**

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**CHAPTER 2**

**MARINA**

I stare at the man lying at my feet. He's easily half a foot taller than me, maybe more and certainly outweighs me by 100 pounds, but it was incredibly easy to take him down. A well placed hit on the back of the skull, followed by a little pressure on the pressure point below his jaw and he was out before he realised what was happening. I drag his limp body to the edge and tie him to one of the pillars, taking care to knot the ropes tightly. My advantage lies in keeping him incapacitated, and I know holding my own against his bulk will be difficult.

Once he's all tied up, I splash freezing water from the river onto his face and stand back as he comes to. He shakes his head, looks around wildly and catching sight of me, starts to yell a colorful variety of swear words, which I'm not bothered to repeat. Knowing this ruckus could alert someone nearby, though ideally there won't be anyone -the main reason I picked this spot was it's isolation-, I walk over, slap him hard across the face and then press down again on his jaw, temporarily locking it. He struggles to open his mouth as I step back and hunt around in my handbag until I find what I'm looking for.

I pull out a small flask and a syringe, opening up the flask and watching the white fumes rise up out of it. I put in the needle of the syringe and measure out some of the liquid before carefully closing it and placing it back into my purse. My captive has fallen silent, and is staring warily at the syringe in my hand, shaking his head in protest as I sit down next to him. "Do you know who I am?", I ask him, and he nods slowly, going cross eyed from trying to look at me and the syringe at the same time.

Naturally he knows about me, rumours of my activities have been storming the underworld ever since I made my first kill, and this guy is the type to have friends in low places. The Ice Nurse, that's what they call me, and while the name sucks, it conveys the message pretty clearly. "Good", I tell him and hold up my syringe, "so do you intend to cooperate or should I use an incentive?", I ask, waving it in his face and he shakes his head, terrified by the thought. A syringe of liquid nitrogen works wonders when you need to interrogate someone. The pain of the needle going into your skin is bad enough, and injecting bit by bit into the blood is pure torture. I've only used it to kill twice until now, and only in self defense when my captives somehow managed to untie themselves and come at me.

"Good, you're making some very wise decisions today. So I'm gonna let you speak now, and I know you have the information I need, so if you don't tell me the truth, or everything you know, let's just say things are gonna get a bit chilly", I say and unlock his jaw. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he starts to speak. "I have only heard rumours, and I hear that he is to be taken out of Europe tonight. I don't know what they want with him, but they are being secretive-", he says, and I cut him off. "Who is in charge of this operation? I want a name", I demand and he replies with a carefully measured tone. "I do not know, they don't reveal much about their leadership-". "Don't lie to me!", I yell, and bring the syringe to his neck.

"I'm not lying, I swear! Please...", he starts to plead, tears running down his cheeks and I calm myself. I thought I was closer to finding him, but to no avail. "Do you know where they are taking him?", I ask and the man nods slowly, "America, to some place in West Virginia", he replies and knowing that he has no other information of value, I stand back and toss my syringe into the water. "Thank you, for your cooperation", I say as. I turn and walk away, leaving him tied to the post. He's yelling at me to untie him, but it's only a few hours until dawn and I'm sure someone will find him eventually, so I pay him no attention.

I slide into my car, pull off the dark mask im wearing and drive away towards Paris. The city never sleeps, and even though it's 4 AM there are people on the streets. It's a beautiful place, the city of love, the center for art and culture, but all my memories of this place are bittersweet. This is where I made a huge mistake that might have cost him his life, this is where I fell in love.

Of course, falling in love isn't instantaneous, but it was in Paris that Naveen and I realised our feelings were mutual. We had been on an assignment, tailing our mark and it led us to the Eiffel tower. He was wearing a ridiculous beret over his curly hair, and we were pretending to be a young, lovestruck tourist couple...

~~flashback~~

_"Naveen take off that hat, honestly. You're going to compromise the whole mission", I hiss at him and he turns to me, green eyes lit up in amusement. "By wearing a Beret?", he asks and I nod, "No self respecting girl would let her boyfriend walk around like that, and we're pretending now, so might as well do it properly", I tell him and sigh internally. He's been like this since we met, on the first day at the agency. _

_My first day, that was so long ago.I was a bit shy, standing in the corner and keeping to myself, but he came over to talk to me. His horrible jokes and disarming smile soon brought me out of my shell, and he became my best friend and later, mission partner. I had always wished for things to progress further but relationships between agents are against the rules and plus I'm not sure Naveen likes me that way. But then everything changed..._

_"You know Marina, about this thing", he says looking extremely serious and I can tell he's about to say something important, "I don't want to pretend anymore". He takes a step towards me and is leaning in by the time my brain manages to process what has been said. "I don't want to either", I whisper and close the distance between us. His hands wrap around my waist and I tangle mine in his hair. The beret falls to the ground and is forgotten._

_Needles to say in the weeks that followed we broke every rule and got a bit careless. We were on a high from being together and we paid the price for our actions. During a stakeout we let our guard down, got a bit distracted, and the next thing we knew, our car was surrounded by gunmen. Our mark had been onto us, and now we were going to die. But Naveen wasn't going to go down without a fight._

_ Together, we took down more than half the gunmen before we were caught, and then he did something I'll never forget. He negotiated with the mark, asking for me to be let go in exchange for agency secrets, which he would provide. He never let me protest, and at the end of it, I was thrown into a ditch by the roadside and he was taken away in their van. I tried to find him for a week, and then went back to the agency to report what had happened. I didn't tell them anything about us, and I was temporarily suspended. _

_They sent people to look for him, and after a dozen unsuccessful searches, they began the talk of a funeral. That's when I lost it. I was sure he was not dead, I would know if he was, and so I took it upon myself to find him, agency support or not. _

_I went rouge. _

_I've been travelling for a week now, all over Europe in search of him or any clues, careful to be on guard at all times. And now I probably have my biggest lead. I drive to the airport and buy tickets for my new destination._

_Hold on Naveen, I'm on my way._

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**_And tadaa... so I called Eight Naveen here cos he's Joseph in my other stories... (check those out too!)._**

**_Ok now I need some help... so when you review, (please review!) Tell me..._**

**_1. What you liked/didn't like about this chapter_**

**_2. Which other characters you want to see_**

**_3. Which pairings you would like me to use_**

**_Also, I'm thinking of introducing my OC from The Second Chance in this story... because I though of an idea using her character, but the plan is still completely flexible. So if you have read the second chance, tell me what you think and if you haven't read it, you can access it through my profile..._**

**_So thanks again, until next time_**

**_thesecondgarde_**


	3. Chapter 3 - NINE- The hit list

**Hey guys! **

**9 reviews for my last chapter... thank you all so much! I really want to give a shoutout to all of you amazing people who reviewed, but then this AN will be WAY too long.**

**So to the results of last week's voting... this story is clearly NOT going to be Nix, since there are some strongly worded reviews against it and also because I have requests to bring in Kiara... which I will be doing (if you don't know who she is, then read my other storied to get a general idea). Also, some of the cepans as well as the fallen garde will feature in this story, and multiple POV chapters will be introduced once I'm done with all my main characters' backstories... **

**Yeah... now here's chapter 3... I really love Nine...**

**This chapter is dedicated to TomFieldings... who really deserves a second dedication :)**

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**CHAPTER 3**

**NINE**

I grit my teeth as I swing my fists at the bag in front of me. Left, right, uppercut, it's become an unceasing rhythm, and my only distraction. I can see the seams of the thick fabric unravelling, and one firm punch splits them open, sending sand all over the floor. I sigh as I pull the broken one off the stand and replace it with another from my seemingly endless supply.

I guess that's one of the only advantages of being an agent like me, that you get an unlimited supply of punching bags, and practically anything else you want. Except missions of course, since apparently the world has no bloody problems anymore. I start punching again with renewed vigor, but my head's not really into it.

Training is the way I find time for myself, and time to think. Not that Sandor would believe it if I told him, I still think the idiot believes I lack a brain.

Sandor is was my mentor, a senior agent who I tagged along with until such time I was deemed competent in handling a mission on my own. That phase got over quickly, since no one expected me to have the brains to get myself into an army base without being seen, but I managed to get in and out before they knew I was gone. Needless to say there was no need for me to hang out with Sandor after that, but the dude had other plans, he decided to retire from field work.

Sandor is great at making stuff, like gadgets and the like, and is incredibly smart, not that you will ever hear me tell him that. He believed his potential was wasted on recon and retrievals and joined the tech department. He worked his way to the top pretty quickly, and is now the youngest department head. Unsurprisingly, being a mega geek has it's benefits.

With his salary, Sandor could buy off a small country, but instead splurged on a luxury penthouse, booze italian suits and a string of girlfriends. Not that any of it took precedence over work, in fact, he built a special training cum testing room into his apartment, and that's where I am now. Sandor said he needed someone to beta test his stuff, and now that's what I do in my spare time.

I've had a lot of that lately, my last mission was a month ago.

I split the second bag as well and am debating whether to put up another when Sandor himself walks in. Oh speak of the devil.

"You might wanna finish up here, don't you have a date with Maddy?", he asks and nod. Maddy is my new girlfriend, and as far as dating goes, let's just say I learn from Sandor. She's easily my fourth or fifth, and that's only since coming to Chicago. She knows nothing about what I do, and thinks I'm a rich dude living with his "uncle".

That's Sandor's story while we're in Chicago, since agents aren't supposed to attract attention towards themselves. "Nine?", Sandor asks, waving his hand in front of my eyes and pulling me out of my thoughts. Obviously Nine isn't my real name, that's a secret. It's my number, and now somewhat a nickname since Sandor's aliases for me usually have some of the stupidest names on the planet. Do I look like a Stanley to you?

"Yeah I heard you", I tell him and walk out of the "lecture hall", Sandor's crazy name for the training center and head to my room. After a quick shower I change into something decent and head to Sandor's control room. He turns around in his office chair as I enter and smirks, "Well my young ward, remember not to trip over your own feet and basically not look like an idiot, and you should be fine".

It takes me a second to realise he's talking about my date and I reply, "I'll be fine, and you should be the one looking up relationship advice. The last time you went out was a month ago". "A week ago", he corrects and I'm stunned, when did he find himself a new girlfriend? "And?", I ask for details but he brushes me off. "It's not important", he says and I smirk, "You actually like this one", I deduce and he glares, confirming my suspicions. I wolf whistle and he groans, "Is she hot?", I ask and he grins and looks dazed, "She's beautiful".

Oh crap. This girl is turning my best friend into a love sick puppy, god help me. "Does she know?", I ask and he shakes his head. Well atleast he hasn't completely lost his head. I'm about to ask him for a name when we hear an alert from the computer behind us. "I'm not expecting a mission", Sandor says as he turns around to face the screen and brings up the mission database. Sure enough, there's a new entry, but it's locked.

"Locked file! Finally I get to actually DO something!", I exclaim but he shakes his head. "We didn't get a password, the mission's not for you", he says and I'm confused. "But who else can it be for?", I ask, "All the other agents are sissies, they can't handle a mission like this!". "I don't know, but it's someone good. I've not seen a file like this in ages", he says and I look at the screen to see the open mission brief. "How did you...?", I ask and he smirks briefly at me before turning back to the screen.

Times like these are when Sandor's brains come in handy. "Move over", I tell him and sit down on a chair to read it. It's a call for a retrieval, which should be fairly simple except for the fact that this file calls for the retrieval of dead bodies. Or rather, soon to be dead bodies. It's an elimination, no wonder it's locked. "Who are the targets?", I ask Sandor, who looks just as shocked as I do and he scrolls down until he finds the list, and the sight makes my blood run cold. Topping the list is a name I know far too well.

"Stanley Worthington, Number Nine", I read out and feel a rush of panic, which I push down. "There has to be some mistake", Sandor says as he scrolls down to read the rest of the list, but I can't tear my eyes away to see the other names. The agency wants me dead, and I have no idea why. I stand up and push Sandor out of the way as I start to print out the file.

"What are you doing?", he asks, looking a little panicked and I reply, my mind completely made up on this matter. "You should leave Chicago, find somewhere to go where they can't find you. If they're looking for me then they sure as hell will come after you when they can't find me", I say as I stuff a bunch of Sandor's prototypes into a duffel bag.

"Nine, it's probably a mistake", Sandor starts to say but I shake my head. "No it's not, and now if you're going to offer to join me, forget about it. I have to do this on my own". I tell him and he raises his eyebrows, "And 'this' refers to what exactly?".

I smirk at him as I grab the file out of the printer, "I'm going to track them down, the people who want me dead and preferably kill them before they kill me", I say and turn on my heel and walk out of the control center.

I grab a pair of keys to one of Sandor's convertibles and ride the elevator to the basement, where I slide into one of the cars. I pull out onto the road and catch a glimpse of Maddy as she walks into the lobby of the John Hancock Center.

My date will have to wait. I have some murderers to kill.

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**Well well...**

**So what did you think? I know I'm not explaining much but I have a good reason for my secrecy...**

** So things to do...**

**Leave me a review! I love reading feedback! Also vote for your favorite pairing, JohnxSix or SamxSix! And if you're super clueless as to who Kiara is, read my other story, The Second Chance... it's long, I know, but I'd really appreciate it if you took the time to check it out... and maybe review too ... :P**

**Also to those of you already reading the second chance, my prequel story, No need to say goodbye is now complete! You can access it through my profile.**

**So until next time**

**thesecondgarde**


	4. Chapter 4- KIARA- The Trojan horse

**Hello everyone!**

**Thank you for the excellent reviews... I love the response I'm getting on this story! **

**Here's chapter 4... and updates will be more frequent from now on... for both the second chance (I updated yesterday!) and this story.**

**I hope you like surprises... **

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**CHAPTER 4**

**KIARA**

I stare at my reflection in the grimy mirror of the ladies room. I've spent hours planning, and now it all comes down to this. I spent nearly one whole year on this assignment and now all I have to do is pray everything works out the way I planned.

Thankfully, most of the time, it does.

This isn't the first time I've been in deep cover, or even in such a potentially dangerous mission. I specialize in work like this, difficult assignments with big risks and even bigger rewards. But I'm not like other agents, I'm not even an agent anymore. Hell, I'm not even myself anymore. I don't do it for the thrill, the money or the prestige. I do it so others don't have to risk their lives, and so that no one ends up in the same situation I did three years ago.

I run my fingers through my red hair, which stops just below my shoulders and give a slight tug. As expected, the wig doesn't budge. Of all things to be worried about, I'm mostly afraid of my disguise slipping and my marks finding out that I'm not who I claim to be.

Ever since the "incident" as I refer to it in my head, I have become somewhat an expert at disguising myself, and it's probably the main reason I'm still alive. If I had a quarter for every person who wants me dead, I'd be rich enough to buy them all off.

I look over my appearance one more time. Red hair, blue-green eyes, heart shaped face and pale skin. I look nothing like myself, and it gives me the confidence to take a deep breath and step out.

"Siobhan!", one of the men calls out to me and I send him a smile.

Siobhan O'Connell, my alias for this mission. It's a common Irish name, not so easily forgotten but not so noticeable that I can't go unnoticed if I want to. Simply put, it was worth the half hour I spent finalizing on it, and perfect for this job.

"Wanna get a drink?", he asks and I walk over to sit next to him. "You know I don't drink, Emmet", I tell him and he smirks.

Emmet is an enforcer for the Irish Mafia, and one of my targets. He's tall, and is extremely strong, as I found out the time he almost threw me into a wall when he suspected me of being a double agent. Not that I was stupid enough to raise suspicion, as I later found out, but just because he doesn't trust anyone easily.

But that's not a problem anymore. A couple of drinks, a few guns and a short dress was all it took to convince him I'm not snitching…. the idiot.

"It's not too late to start", he says and I shake my head at him. "Not this time, where's Marcus?", I ask and he grins. "On his way, but until then, how about you and I-", he starts to say but I cut him off from his pathetic attempts at flirting as a tall man carrying a briefcase enters the pub, followed by two others.

"Marcus", I say cordially as he approaches us and he nods his head in approval. "Siobhan, how was the last assignment?", the asks and I force a smirk onto my face. "Not what I expected, but successful all the same", I say and he smiles, motioning for his "bodyguards" to take a seat.

In the past one year I've managed to integrate myself into the Mafia and work my way up to the top ranks. It's not been easy, and I've had my fair share of close calls and near-death experiences, but it's all about to become history, if I assume my intuition to be correct.

And as I said before… it usually is.

"I hope you are in the mood to do something a bit more interesting than retrievals from now on", he says and I nod, my palms sweating with anticipation and nerves. He pulls out a standard green envelope and hands it to me.

This is it, this is what I came for.

"We have already discussed this particular assignment, and also the consequences if you were to fail...", he adds and I nod. "I'm aware of that", I say and he nods. "Then that is all", he says and sits back, and I take my cue to leave. I stride out of the pub confidently as I glance briefly at the contents of the envelope.

I allow myself a grim smile as I confirm that it's indeed what I was sent in to retrieve. A list of transactions to be completed, and a list of names of people to be "dealt" with.

Once I've crossed the street I pull out a small remote from my handbag and press in a five digit code. I pause for a second before I type in the last number and prepare myself for what's going to happen next. Then I take a deep breath and press 2.

The pub explodes in a raging inferno, and I know no one inside would have survived. I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat and turn quickly, sliding into the car.

It's not the first time I've had to kill on an assignment, as I call these jobs of mine, and the way things are going, it won't be the last. But I'll never get over the feeling…. the feeling of knowing that you took another's life. The only concession I have is the fact that the people I take out have killed more than me, and even so the only thing that keeps me going is the fact that if I don't do it, someone else will have to.

I drive to a secluded spot and pull out the file. I take quick scans of it with a smartphone and send them to the only number I have listed.

The agency.

I'm not an agent anymore, yes, but I do work for the agency. I'm now what you would call a "freelancer", I take on the more dangerous jobs, the type that bring down governments and start world wars, that caused me to become what I am.

The type that led to the "incident", when I faked my death.

I had been extremely promising as a recruit, and was pushed into a high risk mission, way before any of my peers. While on the job I had found some information, some whispers here and there, that led me to doubt if I was working for the right side, and so I dug deeper.

That was a big mistake.

I found answers, and angered a lot of people who wanted them to remain a secret. They threatened me, threatened to kill what was left of my family and I knew there was no way to escape the situation, except to make them believe I was dead. To eliminate Kiara, or Number Two, for good.

And so I did, and swore that I wouldn't let anyone else get caught in the same situation. The agency thinks I'm dead, and as long as they do, I'm going to keep looking for answers until I have all I need to take them down, to bring down whoever is responsible for the shady deals, the secrets and the lies.

I'm going to take down the agency, I'm the Trojan horse.

And so now I take on these missions, waiting for the right one... and the right time to strike.

I get a ping on the phone, a confirmation that my job is complete, details for payment and I'm about to dump the phone when I hear a second, unexpected ping. This isn't how they are supposed to contact me, but then again, I'm curious. I open the received file and see a list of names.

It's an assassination. Not the type of job the agency usually prescribes, but that's not what shocks me.

The targets are all agents, high level ones at that. The agency is ordering a hit on their own.

I close the file with a smile on my face.

This is the type of mission which will lead me to the information I need to find the truth. I'm going to find these agents, and find out why the agency wants them dead. And then, I'll be one step closer to taking them down.

And so I smile as I type in and send my reply, "I accept".

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**I know some of you will feel that Kiara's OOC, but she's not really herself anymore since the "incident" so... :( **

**I've got it planned out... somewhat, so don't worry... any discrepancies will be fixed.**

**So please tell me what you thought! Can't wait to hear what you have to say, and any suggestions you may have.**

**Until next time**

**thesecondgarde**


	5. Chapter 5- JOHN- Authority

**I'm back!**

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated this story in ages... I've been really excited to finish my other one, The Second Chance...**

**Thank you all for the amazing reviews! I'm thrilled you all seem to like Kiara, and am so glad some of you took the time to check out my other story as well... thank you so much!**

**This chapter may seem a little strange... but be assured, everything I do is for a reason... *sly grin***

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**CHAPTER 5**

JOHN

Mark hangs from a hook the ceiling, the long chain of his manacles holding him up. He swings back and forth eerily and in the moonlight through the window I can see the open wounds on his back from the lashes.

And then I hear the voice.

A rough, dark tone that sends shivers down my spine.

"Number Four….Are you going to cooperate now?", it asks and Mark opens his eyes long enough to look at me and give a shake of his head. He's telling me not to give in, that he can take it, and I feel sick.

"No", I say, tensing up as I hear heavy footsteps walk towards Mark, and then hear a metallic click.

I know what's going to happen and though I try, I really can't prepare myself for what happens next.

I hear movement, a low groan and then a muffled click of a sharp object cutting through flesh. Mark screams in agony and I try not to listen, but my hearts racing and I can't seem to swallow down the bile rising in my throat.

And then I wake up, gasping for breath.

I look around wildly and confirm that I'm still in my bedroom, but it does little to calm me down. My hands shake as I reach for my bedside drawer and pick up an orange pill bottle as I switch on my reading light.

In the dim yellow glow I read the four letters printed on the label.

PTSD.

Four letters that have changed me, Number Four. How ironic.

I swallow two pills and sit back as my heart rate slowly returns to normal.

I thought my condition was improving. My therapist said it would be a few more weeks before I'm able to accept what has happened and move on, but after this I'm worried that it might take much longer.

I instinctively imagine the scars on my back, a dark brown against my skin, and the black tattoo on my spine.

Every agent gets one, and every tattoo is unique, bearing a symbol and our code number. It's a matter of pride among us, wearing our number and agents are often known to flaunt them at group events.

Or maybe that's only a certain tall, dark haired agent with a huge attitude… I really don't know his name.

I hear a small whine and find my dog, Bernie Kosar staring up at me from his bed on the floor.

"I'm fine boy", I tell him but he gives a short bark before jumping up to sit next to me on the bed, and the two of us just sit there until the first rays of sunlight glide into the room.

I make it to work on time, and try my best to act as if everything is normal. I get to my desk and am pulling up my latest messages when my therapist, Sarah Hart enters the room.

I try and turn away, knowing that from one look at my face she'll be able to tell it's happening again, and will start with the sympathy, which I'm not in the mood for.

"It happened again, didn't it?", she asks and I groan. "How could you tell?", I ask turning around as she takes a seat opposite me, "You were avoiding me", she replies and I nod, knowing there's no escape.

I look up to find her looking at me, her expression unreadable but with the slightest hint of sorrow in her eyes. She finally looks away and picks up my gun from where it lies on the table, expertly removing the cartridge before replacing it with a click that echoes through the room.

Before she became my therapist, Sarah was an aspiring field agent, and Mark's girlfriend. After what happened, though, the agency cancelled her application and placed her as a therapist, saying it was a better place for her to use her talents.

She wanted to solve the world's problems, and now she's here trying to solve mine.

Or ours, I guess.

"The same dream?", she asks finally and I nod, "Exactly the same". She sighs and looks up at me wearily, a grim look on her face. "I miss him", she finally confesses and I nod. Mark and I weren't really the best of friends, truth be told, we were rivals.

But it was nothing but competition, and of late, even that was coming down. It all started when we were made temporary mission partners in one of our assignments.

It was a retrieval , simple enough, we thought until we found out the word "retrieval" didn't only apply to objects. We only found out the "item" to be a small girl, about 12 years old with large brown eyes and auburn hair when we opened the door to her cell, and the surprise was enough to throw us off for a few crucial minutes in which we could have been halfway out of the building.

The delay cost us dearly.

We were captured, and Mark and I were put through torture after torture to extract information about the agency.

When they found out I wouldn't talk when they hurt me, they turned to Mark, going to the extent of taking off his fingers, one by one and making me watch… saying they would stop if I cooperated.

Mark and I had agreed that we weren't going to reveal anything in such situations and so I watched him scream in agony, get lashed and could do nothing about it.

When the agency finally sent a team in to get us out, it was too late for Mark.

He had been dead for hours.

They brought me back, bruised and beaten, but alive, and I knew even before I was discharged from the hospital that I would never be able to face the field again. And so on my first day back, I marched to my mentor, Henri, and handed in my resignation and a request in the administration department.

Surprisingly, my request was accepted and now I'm in charge of minor mission assignments. It's a pretty coveted job, since there isn't much paperwork, but it brings me much closer to the field than I'm comfortable with.

Sarah sighs again and looks up at me. "Need a coffee?", she asks and when I nod, she excuses herself to go make some and I turn back to my work. I open up my messages and quickly read through a couple of mission reports when a single unmarked message appears on my screen.

I open it, taking note of the strange serial number -the codes we use to identify agents- and find two words.

"I accept".

I blink, scroll up and down, and sure enough, that's all there is.

Then I take in the serial number. It's not one I recognize and a quick search through my database and I find that the message isn't from one of our agents, which leads me to a single conclusion.

It's from an outsider.

Rumors have been circulating about the agency hiring "freelancers" to take up more dangerous jobs. Something about it working out cheaper and being more effective, I heard, and now here I find what could be a confirmation.

I open the message again and manage to track down it's corresponding mission file, only to find it locked. On an impulse I type in a few lines of code and open up the administrator terminal where I enter my override code… and to my surprise, it opens.

I read through the file, and feel my hands start to shake again.

It calls for an assassination…. of our own agents. I read through the list of names and from the way the mission has been stated I can tell that all of them are high level.

The type of agents who are eligible to receive these type of high risk missions.

And what's worse is that the file dictates that they all will arrive at a specified location, having being led there and all that is required of the concerned party is for them to pull the trigger.

The agency really wants them dead.

I'm confused, and extremely panicked as I scroll down further, trying to find out who on Earth would possible authorize such a mission and what I find is enough to trigger a full scale anxiety attack.

The authority ID is MC/4/JS.

Mission Coordinator, Four, John Smith.

Me.

I stare at the screen for a moment, trying to fathom how I could have even received such a file, much less authorize such a mission when something catches my eye.

The time stamp.

I do a quick bit of calculation and realize that nearly 3 hours have passed since the confirmation was received.

Whoever it is that sent it is probably on the move, since the location confirmation has not yet arrived. And that means the soon to be victims are probably on their way to their death too.

I stand up and grab my gun off the table as I clip on my holster and slide it in. I grab a few more concealed weapons from around my office -to think I had laughed when I was told they would come in handy some day- and throwing them into my briefcase I almost run out of my office, nearly colliding with Sarah on the way out.

"Where are you off too?", she yells after me as I rush through the front doors, and I ignore her.

I hail a cab and instruct the driver to take me to the airport, offering him a ridiculous amount of money if he gets me there in 15 minutes.

But the money doesn't matter.

It's the least I'm prepared to do to ensure no one else dies on my watch.

I'm not going to let that happen.

Not again.

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**thesecondgarde **


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